


Four Years Ago

by msindyjones



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 5x07, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msindyjones/pseuds/msindyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has trouble sorting his hallucinations from reality. The repercussions take their toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those stories that you start telling yourself in your head as you are falling asleep. I couldn't sleep so I got my laptop out and just started writing to see what would happen. I feel like this could be a full length fic but, we shall see.

There was a blinding pain, then his consciousness pulled in on himself.

“Hey,” Steve’s strangled voice managed as he attempted to process the hands on his body. Sluggish eyes moved about.

Everything was gray around the edges. His head was splitting. Things shifted to blurry shapes and dull colors. Steve attempted to grasp onto something, anything to tether him to reality. A mess of blond hair.

Danny.

Synapses were firing blanks as Steve failed to compute the situation.

Danny. Wo Fat. His Father.

He wanted to see his father. Steve hadn’t even realized he asked to see him. “Where’s my father? Where’s my father? I want to see my Dad.” His voice quiet with the simple request.

Contrast returned, blurred edges sharpened. In time for the of look sorrow on Danny’s face to register. “Buddy, your Dad died four years ago.”

It wasn’t possible. Steve remembered having a beer with John on the beach. Hugging his father in Captain Kelly’s office. Alive. He glanced away. The information of his father’s death conflicting with what he  _knew._ Something inside him knew Danny was right but that sense was muted. Pushed down and overcome by the fact that John McGarrett is alive.

No, he was killed. Murdered. 

_I love you. I don’t say it enough._

“Yeah, yeah.” His acceptance was superficial. His father wasn’t dead. Steve’s chest tightened. His face contorted and he couldn’t stop the emotion from surging out. His father died. But what were these memories of John being alive?

Steve’s surroundings returned to him. The weight of the leather restraints on his ankles and wrists felt like a ton. He wanted to get out of there. Steve wanted to see his father, his Dad.  _No, he had been killed._  The voice in his head reminded him. But he didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t. It was his job to protect people. How could he not have protected his father?

 

Steve remained distant during the ambulance ride to the hospital. His eyes unfocused as the paramedics fussed over his injuries. Murmurs about a concussion, shock and residual water in his lungs had their concern. Steve stared out the back window. He wondered when they would inform his father that he was being transported to the hospital. He glanced to Danny, the look of concern pinched his face.

_Your Dad died four years ago._

Steve closed his eyes.

 

They had arrived to the hospital shortly after the departure. The emergency room staff was waiting for the ambulance as it pulled into the bay. A multitude of tests and treatments later, Steve was admitted for overnight observations. The addition to his medical file included first and second degree burns and a concussion. Notes about mild hypoxia. As well as treatment for preventing possible pneumonia. After a CT scan revealed small amounts of fluid in his lungs and pleural space.

 

Curled on his side, Steve slowly blinked awake. After his eyes lazily scanned the room around him, they stopped on his partner. He was expecting to see his father. “Did anyone call my Dad?” Steve asked in a hushed, sleep-laced voice. An expression of unease returned to Danny’s face causing him to frown.

The Jersey native shifted his weight. He couldn’t tell Steve again. He didn’t want to see the reaction again. But Danny couldn’t lie to him. They had been to Hell and back together, this stop happened to be in Hell. “Steve,” Danny started. No hint of anger was in tone; no indication a rant was about to spill from his mouth. He reached out to lay his hand carefully on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember? Four years ago?” Danny would try anything if he didn’t have to repeat those words again.

_Buddy, your Dad died four years ago._

Steve tensed under his touch.

_Glad you’re home._

_Me too, Dad._

Steve could remember the soft smile on his father’s bruised face. The cold beer in his hand, the sea breeze carrying salt in the air.

His eyes squeezed shut, he brought his hand up to cover his face. “I remember.” Steve’s muffled voice sounded distant. Something in the short phrase made Danny wonder if Steve remembered the correct history. The scene where they found Steve had been processed. They found needles and a hallucinogenic. It didn’t take a detective to know Steve had been dosed. The only question was, how many times?

The way Steve was guarding himself, his knees pulled close to his chest despite the small bed. Despite the pain Danny knew he had to be feeling in his chest. The way Steve kept asking for his father.

_Behavioral engineering works, Steve. You know that… it just takes time._

Danny wanted to know how much time Steve suffered at the hand of Wo Fat before he managed to overcome him. What did they do to him to cause this? A tinge of panic shot through him. He had to push the thought that caused the unease away. They were going to fix this. Danny wanted to kick himself for even thinking Steve couldn’t get better. He  _had_ to.

“What do you remember?” Danny asked as he attempted to keep the question innocent. Steve didn’t answer. “Steve?”

“My Dad is dead.” Steve finally answered, his response devoid of emotion. The words sounded mechanical, forced. Not an omission of the truth but of a statement Steve was trying to accept. As if he were testing the phrase as one would test the temperature of a drawn bath. A frown pulled at Steve’s mouth. His lips pulled in, his eyes creased at the edges. “My Dad’s dead.” He repeated. This time the emotion raw as Steve’s voice cracked. He took a deep breath, the intake hitched by grief.

His face turned into the pillow as tears flowed.

Danny sighed silently through his nose, unsure how to provide comfort. This realization was worse than the first.

 

“When do you think this will stop?” The male voice questioned. It sounded distant, garbled and defused. There was a pause before the answer arrived.

“As long as it takes for the drugs to leave his system.” An unfamiliar accent responded.

“How long will that be?” The follow up question came from someone else. A female but it sounded just as distorted and muted.

“I don’t know.” An extended rest broke up the rest of the answer. “I just don’t know.”

 

Steve woke to darkness. The lights in his room were off and it was night outside. He wished for his house, for his room, for his bed. His eyes closed. No, he reminded himself. Not his old room. He didn’t sleep there anymore. There was no need, he was the sole occupant of the house. The only living resident. He had a roommate but it was abstract. He lived with the lingering ghost of a violent crime. A charged emotion that hung in the air no matter the time of day. One that was overshadowing memories of childhood, of holidays and birthdays. The unwanted roommate denied the presence of any enjoyable memory.

_I love you. I don’t say it enough._

Anger over took Steve, forcing him to sit up. The conflicting thoughts and memories were driving him mad. He knew his father was gone. Steve remembered the funeral. A lone bugle playing Taps haunted him. A song Steve had heard one too many times in his life as he witnessed friends laid to rest. The song jarred him at his father’s funeral. A mocking tone as the gathered crowd waited in silence. A reminder that everything in his life could be taken from him. A musical composition of memorial that denoted to Steve that he couldn’t keep friends or family in his life.

The sound of Taps played vividly in his head. He sunk into the bed. His hands covering his ears. “Stop!” He shouted. “Stop it!” His voice carried fear through the silent hospital wing. Nurses quickly arrived in his room to sooth him with sedatives.

 

It was late afternoon when Steve finally woke. The chemicals played havoc with his insides and he felt sick for most of the evening. He kept quiet as Danny sat in silence with him. Neither spoke a word. Danny didn’t know what to ask. This situation was unnatural to him. Steve hadn’t asked once to go home, nor did he make an attempt to discharge himself from medical care. There was no arguing, no shouting. Just silence and a medically compliant Steve McGarrett.   

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry.” He stated out of the blue.

Danny’s brow creased. “What do you mean, babe?” He asked. Danny leaned forward in his chair, allowing his forearms to rest against the plastic railing.

It took Steve a while to explain. “I know my Dad was killed, I just…” His voice trailed, his eyes diverted away. “I just…” He sighed again. “I miss him.”

“That’s nothing to be sorry for, Steve.” Danny said as he stood, allowing himself to get a better look at Steve. Two days ago he swore they found Steve dead. He didn’t care what fallout he needed to deal with after his rescue. As long as Steve was alive, Danny was certain they would work through it together. “You were tortured physically and psychologically by Wo Fat… again.” The additional reminder of this not being the first run in with Wo Fat’s insanity made Danny wince. It felt uncouth and unnecessary but it was too late to take it back. He pressed on. “No one is mad or blaming you. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?”

Steve was doing his best to listen. His mother had cared for Wo Fat as if he had been her own son. She’d expressed the same maternal love that she gave Steve to Wo Fat. The one man who managed to take away so much from Steve’s life. Doris gave up Wo Fat, a son that she elected to care for. She also gave up taking care of Steve and his sister. Danny was still going on but his words were drowned out from the rushing of blood behind his ears.

They had the same mother. Doris cared and abandoned both of them.

“What if I become like him?” Steve asked, interrupting Danny. The question blindsided the detective.

Danny stuttered and tripped over his words. “What?” The only response he could manage.

“My mother killed Wo Fat’s mother.” Steve started. “Something went wrong, the target was his father but, but… his mom was the only casualty. She, my mother, took him and cared for him. Raised him for years until she gave him up.”

Danny’s eyes searched Steve’s face, he was there talking to him physically. But mentally and emotionally, he was somewhere else. “Who? Gave who up?”

“Wo Fat.” Steve answered, the disgust with his name palpable as it dripped from his tongue.

Danny ended up sitting down again as his brain processed the information he received. It didn’t take him long to realize the train of thought that Steve was currently riding. “No, no, no. You aren’t going to end up like Wo Fat.”

“Why? I mean, you call me crazy all the time. You call me insane, an animal, a psycho.” Steve spat, his anger spilling over. Danny being the only one there to be the casualty of the emotion. “Who’s to say I don’t snap one day and I’m just like him?” Immediately the harsh tone in Steve’s voice abated. Replaced with what Danny could only describe as anguish. Steve dropped his head into his pillows and closed his eyes tight.

“Hey, look at me.” Danny said getting Steve’s attention. He took his partner’s hand. “I have said those things, yes. I can’t deny it. I also can’t deny that you can be insane and crazy. It’s a proven fact that you do things that Evel Knievel wouldn’t consider on his best day. You have simply been hard-wired to assess a situation and pick the most ridiculous way to solve it. But, Steven, you have so many qualities that Wo Fat couldn’t even pretend to have.” Danny licked his lips. “You’re loyal to the people you trust and care about. Which is a pretty small circle, so to be on the receiving end of that loyalty is, well, I’m only going to say this once, it’s an honor. To know that you have my back when it comes to work and personal life and dealing with Rachel and going to the store, is comforting. You’re determined and hardworking and you don’t stop for anything. Something of which, makes the rest of us look bad most of the time, but it works for you.” Danny said as his eyes slid from Steve’s face and down his arm to their interlocked hands.

“And don’t even get me started about how great you are outside of work.” Danny’s lips twitched into a smile. “The way you are with Grace is better than some biological parents with their own kids. Not saying you are better with her than me, but you make a good case for a close second. You put compassion into everything. I mean  _everything._ True, raw, loving compassion. Whether it is interrogating a suspect or a Saturday night together.” Danny stopped, he felt like he could continue on for hours. But praising Steve could only do so much, words only went so far.

“You will not become like him. You have proven that already whether you think you have. Steve, I mean that.” Danny concluded.

Steve remained quiet. He nodded after a few moments. It was a small gesture but the look on his face conveyed the true answer. Danny knew that Steve understood and believed him. He let go of Steve’s hand to rest his palm on his cheek. His fingers curled into his hairline avoiding the stitches in Steve’s part. Danny’s thumb carefully glided over his pronounced cheek bone.

“When do I get to leave here?” Steve asked and Danny couldn’t help but smile. The first semblance of something he recognized.

“Probably soon. Eager to leave?”

“Yeah. I uh, I’d like to go visit my Dad.” Danny’s heart dropped. “I mean his grave.” Steve clarified and Danny exhaled before nodding.

“I think that’s a good idea, babe. A very good idea.” He said before leaning in to kiss his forehead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my bit of angsty, hurt/comfort goodness. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
